“You’re beautiful, Ada,” he growls, letting his thumb tease just a bit closer to my weeping slit. His lips drop down to kiss the inside of my thigh, and my breath catches. That stubble tickles my skin, sending shivers of pleasure tumbling across my core.
With one hand pushing my knee wide and his shoulder pinning the other knee to the couch, I can’t move. Not that I’d want to. The Duke has his head so close to my center, and all I want is to feel his tongue. His kiss. I want to feel those lush lips kissing me down there.
My cheeks are red and hot at the thought of it.
I’m not a virgin. I’ve fooled around with people. I dated a guy for three years when I was in college.
But never have I ever felt like this. Spread wide, exposed, begging for more.
“Please,” I whisper, truly begging now. I don’t care.
His thumb runs over my outer lip again, tugging gently to open me up. I gasp, my chest heaving as I try to regain control over my own body. I can feel the wetness seeping out of me, and I know he sees. He sees everything.
The Duke lays a soft kiss on the inside of my hip, then another, an inch closer. Another, closer again.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I need his lips right there where my body screams for him.
Hearing my unspoken pleas, the Duke complies. He spreads me wide with his hands. His tongue sweeps through my folds, tasting all of me.
I buck, but he holds me down. He laps up my desire with a low groan, and I nearly come apart. That noise. I want more of it. It’s gruff, like his throat is full of gravel. So deliciously rough, and all for me.
His tongue moves slow, then fast. Soft, then hard. Teasing my bud, then moving lower. All the while, he holds me down against the sofa, his broad shoulders rounded between my legs, his head bowed as he devours me.
Tangling my fingers into his dark hair, I grind my center into his face. The Duke hooks his arms around my legs, throwing them over his shoulders. I moan, clawing at the soft leather sofa to get some sort of leverage. To support my body as it’s teased and torn apart.
With my legs over his shoulders, Heath runs his hands up to my waist, holding me down. His tongue slips down to my opening, and he drives it inside me.
I gasp. I fist my hand into his hair and pull as heat erupts in my core.
I’ve never had this before. Not like this. Not where I know—I just know—that Heath is enjoying it almost as much as I am. I can tell by the groans. The fingertips sinking into my flesh. The way his mouth eats me like I was made just for him.
And I come.
My orgasm erupts, sending daggers of heat down my thighs and out to every extremity. My back arches, and I clench. I’m so empty. So, so lacking. Even as my breath staggers and my orgasm crashes into me, making my cheeks pink and stealing my voice away, I know it’s not enough.
The muscles in my core tighten and release, aching for something long and hard and male.
When I can breathe again, I lift my head and look at the Duke. That wolfish grin is on his lips again, glistening with my arousal.
“Did you enjoy that?” His voice is a low rumble, sending another thrill tickling down my spine. He runs his hands up my sides to tease the underside of my breast, his eyes sweeping down my body and back up again.
“Not bad,” I answer, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth.
Heath grins, hooking his fingers in my ruined panties and tugging them down my legs. I help him by kicking them off, not caring where they land.
And when he stands, I grip the edge of the sofa. I watch those broad, strong hands work the button of his pants open. Then the zipper. Finally, he pushes the pants, underwear, and all down to his ankles.
He stands in front of me, hands hanging by his sides, watching me. Watching my reaction. My face. My lips as they drop open. My eyes, as they follow the movement of his long, hard cock as it bobs as if to say hello. My breath catches, but I can’t look away.
It’s big. Massive, even.
And I ache. I’m so fucking empty, and I need it. Now. Right this second. It needs to be inside me, so I can feel the length and thickness of it buried between my legs.
Dragging my eyes up to his, I reach up to wrap my fingers around his cock. Warm, silken skin throbs beneath my touch, and before I know what I’m doing I find myself bringing my lips to it.
There’s moisture beading at the tip, and I suddenly need to know what it tastes like. I need to have him on my tongue, just as he has me. I need to share everything with him.
I don’t even know him, but does it matter? There’s something happening between us. A union. Something real. It’s not about titles or nobility. There’s a connection between us that started the moment our eyes met across the ballroom.
He understands me, down to my core. He knew how I felt about the Count. He made me feel safe and comfortable when I needed it most. He brought me to this place, to play an instrument I’ve only dreamed of.
Why resist now? Why deny myself the pleasure I know he wants to give? It might be my only chance. After Maggie’s married, I’m next.
When I lick the tip of his cock, feeling the tautness of his crown, we both let out a groan. I drop my lips open and take him in my mouth, finally tasting that salty, needy arousal.
The Duke sighs, cupping my cheek with his hand. He pushes himself deeper in my mouth, letting out a low sigh. “This isn’t how I expected tonight to go,” he says softly.
I moan in response, because it’s the only thing I can do. The hum of my voice against his shaft makes him groan again, his hold on my head tightening ever so slightly. I let my fingers run up his strong thighs, feeling the sparse, dark hair beneath my palms. I grip his hips, bringing one hand around his shaft and the other crawling up his stomach.
Before I can stop him, the Duke wraps his fingers in my hair and pulls my head back. His length falls from my mouth with a soft pop.
I lift my eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?” It’s almost a whine. I want more. I want to give him what he gave me. I want to taste his orgasm on my tongue and know that I made him do it.
I’m not usually like this. I’ve never gotten naked with someone I just met. I’ve never sucked a man’s cock at a royal event or let him spread me wide and devour me.
But I’m not going to stop now—and neither is he.
Hooking his arms around my legs, the Duke yanks me forward on the sofa. I fall back, catching myself against the cushions as he kneels, letting his hands sweep up my thighs and over my stomach.
“What’s wrong is that if you had your lips around my cock for another second, I was going to come all over that pretty tongue of yours.”
The Duke’s eyes are dark. I can’t even see the green in them right now. All I see is desire. His tip teases my opening as his eyelids flutter, a sigh slipping through his lips.
“Tell me you’re on the pill. Tell me you want this.”
“I’m on the pill,” I answer. I glance at him through my lashes. “I want this.”
Desperately.
His face grows serious, his hands running back and forth over my thighs as he holds them up, my calves resting on his shoulders.
“I’ve been hard since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he growls. “I thought I’d be fucking my fist to the memory of you for the rest of the year. I never thought I’d get the real thing.”
“Number one, I’m not a thing,” I say, wiggling my hips to try to feel more of him. “Number two, be quiet, Your Grace, and fuck me already.”
Who is this person that’s taken over my body? Who is this woman who’s needy and dirty and wet? When did I become her?
The Duke’s eyes darken as a wicked, wild look crosses his face.
With one movement of his hips, he drives himself inside me. I’m so wet he slides in easily, but he’s still so big it hurts. It hurts…until it doesn’t.
No, that’s not pain anymore. Oh, no. Not pain. That’s something else. My eyes widen. It’s good. I like that. A lot.
He pushes deep inside me and I gasp, closing my eyes to enjoy this moment. The emptiness is gone. The ache has disappeared. I’m so deliciously filled—with him. The Duke rocks his hips back and forth as I moan, my lips dropping open. I reach for the edge of the sofa. I need to brace myself for this.
Heath clamps one arm across my legs, holding them against his torso as he drives into me. A grunt escapes him, and I love it. I love the noises. I love knowing he’s losing control. With my legs pinned I know I’m tight around him, and I can see pleasure rippling across his features.
And me?
My body’s on fire. My veins are full of molten lava, being pumped to every corner of my being. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t even remember my own name.
When I close my eyes, I still see him. Heath. The Duke. My Duke.
The man who makes me see stars. The man who sets me alight and reminds me what it’s like to be a woman. The man who thought of fucking his fist to the memory of me. Those strong, broad hands wrapped around his shaft, his eyes closed, chest heaving, thinking of me.
Why is that so hot?
I open my eyes to see him watching me, his eyes dark. With one hand still clamped over my legs he leans over me, thrusting deeper. I moan. His free hand finds my breast and he tweaks my nipple softly, then harder. I gasp, rocking my hips against him and not even caring that I’m grunting and moaning and huffing like never before.
“You like my cock inside you?” he asks, his voice low. Commanding.
I moan, nodding.
“Say it.”
“I love it. I love your cock inside me.” Dirty, dirty words. Heat rips through my core when they come out of my mouth, but they’re true. I love his cock inside me. I love feeling every inch of it stretching me. Owning me. Marking me.
When the Duke reaches down between my legs and rolls his thumb over my clit, I come apart. A cry falls from my lips as the Duke tries to shush me, but I’m gone. I can’t think. I have no control. I pant his name, coming on his cock as a smile stretches over his lips. He whispers a thousand dirty things to me, pumping me so full that one orgasm bleeds into the next.
Then, I feel it. The tightening in his shaft. The thick, throbbing spurts. The tension ratcheting in his body. I watch the slackness of his jaw and the drooping of his eyelids. And I feel it. I feel his orgasm lashing inside me, hot and strong and mine. It belongs to me. To tonight. To this moment that we’re sharing.
As his hips rock one last time and his hands sweep over my body, I let out a long sigh. The Duke lets my legs drop open and, still joined to me, leans down to kiss me hard. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, tasting my first orgasm on his lips.
When the Duke pulls away, he lets out a slow exhale, staring deep in my eyes. “You’re special, Ada Belcourt. I haven’t felt like that in…ever.”
A blush stains my cheeks. “I was that good, was I?” I grin, but I know right away it was the wrong thing to say.
His face falls, and a bit of stone returns to his features. The Duke wasn’t talking about sex. He wasn’t talking about an orgasm. This was something more for him.
And me?
What does this mean to me?
Is this really just a last chance at a dirty fuck? Is this me letting go before my inevitable betrothal to some old, rich man?
Or is there something that drew me to the Duke? This connection between us…could it be real?
I don’t even know. I run my fingers over his temples, leaning my forehead against his. “I don’t want to go back out there,” I whisper. “I want to stay here with you forever.”
He closes his eyes, nodding gently. “Me too.”
“But…” I sigh.
“But we have to.”
He pulls away from me, and I miss him already. He pulls his pants on, then walks over to the piano and picks my dress up off the floor. The silky fabric doesn’t wrinkle, thankfully, and the Duke helps me slip it back over my body. He zips it up and spins me around, wrapping his arms around my waist. His lips drop to mine and I inhale another kiss, not wanting this to end.
“I want to see you again,” he whispers against my lips.
I nod. “Me too.”
I watch him pull his shirt on over his shoulders, sad that I no longer get to stare at his chest. He closes the buttons carefully, then moves to his bowtie, and finally I drag my eyes away from his body and hunt for my underwear. After a few fruitless minutes, I walk to a tall mirror on the other side of the room.
My hair is a mess. I take a tiny comb out of my purse and do my best to get my dark locks back into place, then move to fix my makeup. With only a small compact and a lipstick to work with, I look nowhere near as put together as I did when I walked in, but it’ll have to do.
The Duke appears behind me, running his hands over my hips. His eyebrows jump up, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “No panties?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t see them anywhere.”
He grins, arching a brow. “Leave them. I like the thought of you naked under that dress. Some confused staff member will find them eventually and wonder what happened in here.”
I blush, wanting to protest. I stop myself, though, and let him lead me from the room. My nakedness feels like another secret only he and I share.
When his hand is on the doorknob, I grab his arm. “Wait.” He frowns when I pull out my phone, flicking to the camera app. “Selfie,” I explain.
“Do you do this with all your conquests?”
“Only you,” I grin. I snap a picture, checking it quickly, then sending it to Kiera. I give the Duke a wink, then we exchange phone numbers.
My heart flutters as he types his number into my phone. He wants to see me again. He’s giving me his number. This is happening.
A tiny voice at the back of my head asks, What if I’m not destined for a loveless marriage?
I try to push the thought down, but it screams louder. What if I could have it all? Someone like Heath who’s handsome and accomplished and a good match. From what I’ve seen tonight, the stories about him can’t be true. He’s solitary, sure, and he doesn’t leave his estate very often…
…but he’s been hurt. His whole family passed away a few years ago, right around Christmastime. That’s got to be traumatizing.
It doesn’t mean he has women delivered to his home for debauched orgies…does it? He could be completely normal. This could be the start of something good.
As we walk back to the party, his back is straight and his face is shuttered. The picture of decorum.
Me, on the other hand? I’m pretty sure I look like I just got royally screwed.
9
Ada
My legs shake as I walk back to the ballroom, my heels echoing against the marble floors. I feel my nakedness with every step, a constant reminder of what I just did.
Oh, my God. What did I just do?
My cheeks burn. Resting my fingertips in the Duke’s elbow, my heartbeat roars.
As we approach the tall double doors that open onto the ballroom, I can see guests standing on the other side. No one has spotted us yet, but judging by the attention we got on the dance floor, I know our entrance won’t go unnoticed.
Heath must feel me stiffen, because he leans toward me. His scent envelops me, soothing my fraying nerves. “You are magnificent,” he says in a low voice. “Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”
I flick my gaze to his, expecting to see mirth dancing in his eyes. They’re serious. He thinks I’m magnificent? No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.
A smile slides over my lips as I duck my chin, straightening up as we walk through the arched doorway. As expected, a few heads turn. Eyebrows arch. Whispers are made behind raised palms. More heads turn to look. And on, and on, like a ripple through the crowd.
But I keep my spine straight and find Rhoda nearby. I slip my hand out of the Duke’s elbow, turning to face him. “Thank you for showing me the piano room,” I say loud en
ough for people to hear. “It was beautiful.” I give him a curtsy and a polite smile.
The Duke’s eyes flash. Broken, green glass stares back at me, his eyes drifting down my body. Embers burn in my veins, reminding me of what we were doing just moments ago. When I rise from my curtsy, the Duke catches my hand in his. He lays a soft, chaste kiss on my fingers, then releases them.
The distance between us feels like a chasm, but I turn away from him and head for Rhoda. I can feel the Duke’s gaze on my back as I walk away. Other guests step out of my way, and I feel an odd sort of power coursing through me. Usually, unless I’m on stage performing, I hate being stared at. I hate crowds. I hate events.
Now?
I relish the surprised expressions on courtiers’ faces. I love the way they look at me, and I love knowing I have a secret that no one but the Duke and I share.
When I reach Rhoda, she stares at me with wide eyes. “Where were you?”
“The Duke showed me the late Queen Mother’s piano. He knew I was a concert pianist and thought I’d appreciate it. Apparently his family built it for the royal family as a wedding present.”
Rhoda stares at me, her eyes boring into mine. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
I smooth my hands over my silver dress, nodding to a waiter who presents me with a tray of champagne flutes. I accept one between delicate fingers, taking a sip before shrugging. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to explain why the Duke of Blythe—the man who hasn’t left his estate in months, and definitely hasn’t danced at an official event since he was prepubescent, grabbed you in the middle of the dance floor, twirled you around, then whisked you away.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, arching a brow.
“Maybe he likes to dance. No one knows anything about him except what’s in the tabloids and what old, bored ladies gossip about when they have high tea.”
Rhoda snorts, shaking her head. “Dukes don’t just start dancing at royal balls after years of standing against the walls.” She glances across the room, trying to see Heath in the crowd. Then, ducking her head toward me, “What’s he like?”
Yours for Christmas: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected) Page 5